


A Little after 2 A.M.

by Zeroth123 (ktao3)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Jack is still figuring out who she wants to be, Romance, relationship banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9869510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktao3/pseuds/Zeroth123
Summary: In the same universe as my stories A Little After Midnight and A Wolf at the Door. This takes place after them, but they can all stand alone.Jack is starting to pursue her interest in doing something other than being in the military, volunteering with a fire and rescue squad. A little exploration of the feelings that brings up for her and for Miranda. Another chapter maybe two. Nothing major. Just more Jackanda fluffy angst.Enjoy.





	1. Chapter 1

A little after 2 a.m., a voice crackled through the earpiece inside Jack's fire helmet for the second time in a few seconds.  


"139, I need you to pull out now. This structure is unstable."  


"One more minute, chief. There's a room at the end of this hallway." Jack checked the structure map and her oxygen levels on the HUD inside the face mask. Oxygen over 75%. Totally fine. Her breathing was calm as she made her way through thick smoke following the digital display. She could hear the chatter of others confirming they were on their way out. Johnson sounded nervous. As usual. Johnson would've lasted one nanosecond on the Collector base . . .  


Jack pushed on through the narrow passageway. Maybe someone was in that room. Probably not. Abandoned old apartment building in a part of town that hadn't really been rebuilt since the war. The real truth was, Jack liked walking through a building on fire.  


This had all started with the desire to help other people. To do something aside from killing and training others to kill. But from the first time she had trained in real flames, there was this other thing. The danger adrenaline. It was good. Not like sex adrenaline, but good. Fighting a fire, sometimes it almost felt like fighting a sentient being. And Jack knew every detail of how to do that.  


"139! I am ordering you to evacuate now."  


"One minute!" Man, he was going to be so pissy when she got outside. His barking was the doing the opposite of motivating her to pick up the pace. The burning smell was faint through the filters, but she was really starting to feel the heat. She liked to feel it.  


The door to the room was already open. Just as she crossed the threshold, struggling to peer through the smoke to the first corner to her left, a loud crack resounded through the building. She felt a wave pass through the floorboards through the soles of her boots. Shit . . .  


"139! Now." Only one thing would be more annoying than the chief looking down at her, shouting about how right he had been—him looking down at her body. But no need to think that way right now.  


Jack yelled into the smoke, "Is anybody in here?" No therm signatures were showing on her display. As a second boom filled her ears, her heart rate spiked. Time for action, not thinking. Without clear visibility, she began to run toward the second story window on the display. Soon she was bursting out in the night air, a spray of glass flying in front of her.  


Did she use biotics to soften her landing? She swore sometimes she didn't even realize she was doing it in intense moments like that. In any case, she found herself with one knee on the ground, safe. She barely had the chance to release a self-satisfied laugh before a shower of bricks began to rain on her back. It lasted only a second or two, but a few caught her full force. And that fucking hurt. Then, a telltale hiss let her know her suit had ripped somewhere. She groaned in both pain and annoyance. As she reached back to try to touch a painful spot near her right kidney, the chief arrived.  


His hand reached around her upper arm, pulling her further from the compromised wall. "You okay?" When their eyes met, she saw real concern.  


"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay."  


The concern dissipated as the screaming commenced. "When I give you a fucking order, you follow that order . . ."  


Jack held his gaze, but mentally she blocked out his yelling. Her side was really stinging.  


"...I don't have the fucking energy to protect your idiot ass, you and your idiotic death wish."  


Death wish? No, not at all. Life was better than it ever had been. Peace. Her relationship with Miranda. The kids at the academy. There was maybe a thirst—a need—for heightened experiences. Risk taking. But death? This guy had no clue how she used to wish for death.  


The vein in the chief's forehead was really pulsing now. "I get stuck with you as a favor to Hackett . . ."  


Well, that was a little rude to bring up now, even if it was true. Shepard had pulled some strings to get Jack the chance to try out working fire and rescue while still training the Grissom students part time.  


"Why shouldn't I dismiss you this second? Your attitude is shit . . ."  


Jack found her voice. "Maybe because I'm the best candidate you've got in this whole squad? I know how to make a decision, and I decided that was my fastest way out."  


"You're not here to decide. You follow orders. The military doesn't teach that to its soldiers anymore?"  


Jack shrugged. "Commander Shepard trained her crew to actually use our brains." The trump card. She hated to play it. But not really.  


The chief inhaled then said, "Go see the medic, then go home."  


Jack was still defiant. "Shift's not over."  


"It's over for you. Medic, then home. Then tomorrow you come down to the station house and you sign a disciplinary report. With no objections." He reached for her suit. "And you pay for this. I don't give a fuck who you know or if you saved the whole galaxy. My crew obeys my orders. Period. Otherwise we're done."  


Jack and the chief stood eye to eye. She had to hand it to him, he really didn't give a shit. Her back was radiating pain and her body was beginning to feel the first hints of weakness as the adrenaline levels began to dip. She noticed his rounded shoulders, his blackened hands, the gray stubble and bloodshot eyes. What was he—75 years old? He was still physically imposing, even stooped with age. He was running a house long after his time because of the ocean of casualties caused by the war. Years of service, risking his life and dealing with young, cocky assholes and still ballsy as fuck. His gaze was resolute. And angry. And tired too. Hell, she actually sort of liked him when he wasn't yelling at her.  


Jack nodded, swallowed, and then said steadily, "I understand, chief. You're right. I would never tolerate my actions from someone in my command. I got caught up in the moment in there. Very undisciplined. I apologize, and I will sign off on the report without objection." Not submissive, but honestly apologetic. Giving respect to someone who had fought a lot of battles, even if they were different from her own. Her posture betrayed the pain she was feeling. There was something about Jack--when she let her guard down, it was irresistibly disarming. Suddenly the chief could see that this all really meant something to her.  


"Alright. Fine. We'll talk tomorrow."  


Jack added, "I don't have a death wish."  


The chief considered her, then gave her a shrug. "You could've fooled me. Or maybe you're fooling yourself. Just follow orders, and we'll leave all that psych stuff to the side."  


He watched her walking away slowly. He had known a lot of adrenaline junkies in his time, but Jack? Her shit ran deep. And he was just about over it. But one thing he knew for sure was that she would never be intimidated by any situation they would face. For that alone, he'd give her this one more chance.  


*****  


Jack had talked to the medic for a couple moments and convinced her she was fine, then returned to the station to change clothes and take a quick shower. It was around 3:45 when she finally opened the door to the apartment. She stopped in the front room to pull off her boots and her shirt and bra, not wanting to wake Miranda and pretty sure she was going to be making a sound or two. Her back felt like . . . someone had thrown a brick at it. She reached to pull the hem of the shirt up, she held her breath. But the second she let out the smallest of gasps, Miranda called out from the bedroom, "Jack?"  


"Yeah, it's me, babe."  


"Is everything okay? Why are you home?"  


"Why, you got your other girlfriend in there?" Jack walked over to the bedroom door.  


There was an annoyed sigh, then Miranda said, "No. She just went out the window."  


"Ah. Well, all the kids are doing it," said Jack with slight laugh at herself.  


Miranda said, "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"  


"No. No. I just want to get in there and hold you."  


"Well, come on then."  


Jack stepped in the door, unzipped her pants and let them and her boxers fall to the floor. She let out a sigh looking at Miranda. Death wish? She really would have to be a moron.  


She couldn't stop herself from letting out another gasp as she lay down.  


Miranda looked at her, worried. "Are you okay? What's going on?"  


Jack rested her back gently on the mattress, exhaled, and waved her hand. "Nothing. Just a really tiring call. Nothing . . ."  


Miranda pushed up to her elbow and looked down at Jack. "So tell me about it. Because clearly it's not nothing. You wouldn't be here now if nothing happened. Did you and the chief have another run in?"  


Jack exhaled again. "Babe . . . I'm really tired."  


Miranda made an expression that said, So, you did have another run in. But out loud she said, "Okay. I'm glad you're home." She leaned down toward Jack. "You smell nice." She kissed Jack on the cheek. Then she kissed her on the lips. And it was just meant to last a second, but then Jack reached up to hold her face and deepen the kiss. In her mind, she remembered jumping out that window. What the hell was she thinking, risking this? She suddenly just needed to be with Miranda.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Miranda engage in fooling around and pillow talk. My faves.
> 
> And Jack continues to try to figure out exactly who she is in a life that isn't constant fighting for survival . . .
> 
> I live for two things. One is fluff. And the other rhymes with pangst.

As Miranda shifted more of her weight onto Jack, Jack let out a groan. A pain groan, not a passionate one—but she played it off the best she could, keeping her mouth on Miranda's, kissing her and pulling her closer. Her mind was a jumble of desires, questions, images from the night mingling with images from long ago. What she wanted was to be with Miranda, to be close to her and push every other thought away. Sometimes she felt like sex helped her let down her guard. It was so strange, when it had been a way to avoid feelings for so long. Before . . . all of this. Being with her.  


Maybe sensing Jack's divided attention, Miranda asked, "You sure you're not too tired, babe?"  


Jack's only answer was to keep kissing her and making an Mmm sound.  


When Miranda paused for a breath, she said, "Maybe you just want me to do all the work."  


Jack snorted a little, "Yeah, for once . . ."  


Miranda pulled back. "Pardon me?" The sparkle in her eyes suggested she was ready and willing to present a case against that statement.  


Jack laughed, "I'm kidding, I'm totally kidding. And you know I love working you over anyway. Woman . . ." Jack pulled Miranda back down to her. This time she kissed her slowly, deeply. Then she said more seriously, "I am tired. But I just really need . . . to be close to you right now." Jack's right hand rubbed circles on Miranda's lower back. "Really . . ."  


Miranda looked down at Jack. Like the chief earlier in the night, she couldn't resist Jack when she was so willing to lay bare her emotions. Over their time together—and especially after the whole situation with Kate Lupin and her crush on Miranda—Jack had allowed herself to be more and more vulnerable. Jack had simply made a decision to trust Miranda and trust their relationship and now she fought her doubts and insecurities the way she fought anything that got in her way—ferociously and without mercy. Of course, that made for a different complicated emotional situation. Always one fight or another . . .  


While Miranda had insight into Jack's insecurity and trust issues (and the fear and jealousy they sometimes aroused), she didn't yet know about all the emotions and questions that Jack's volunteering with fire and rescue was bringing to the surface. She just knew that when Jack got home early in the morning, she was typically in one of two states—aroused or exhausted. The combination of the two, that was new. Miranda did know one thing. Sometimes Jack used sex for comfort. She thought, And doesn't everyone? She loved to be there for her young lover when she was so willing to ask for that closeness. She smiled at Jack.  


"Babe . . . I'm right here." Miranda's hands began to caress Jack's arms and shoulders, then moved to her breasts. Then they were kissing again. Knowing Jack needed her, she didn't tease. Soon her right hand was between Jack's legs and she was stroking her clit with gentle circles.  


Jack was moaning again. She couldn't stop her hips from pressing up into Miranda's touch, but with every movement her back and side were burning with pain. Her head was aching and her cunt was aching, and images of fire and old battlefields covered in Reaper forces flashed through her head. She just wanted release. She pleaded, "Baby . . . inside . . . please." When Miranda first entered her, it just made everything worse. More intense. Every neuron in overdrive. Jack reached down in desperation to touch herself to get to her climax as soon as possible.  


In seconds, a loud broken moaning was escaping from deep in her chest. Letting everything go felt so good, Jack thought she might cry. Damn, she loved Miranda . . . she was practically squeezing the life out of her she was holding on so hard. Between her gasps for breath she forced out, "Fuck . . . I love you." She kept shifting beneath Miranda, trying to find a more comfortable position, but she couldn't.  


"I love you too." Miranda looked down, concerned. "Do you feel better?" Miranda kissed her cheek, then moved so she was lying next to Jack.  


Jack's left arm still encircled Miranda. She squeezed her waist and answered her question with a question of her own, "Do you know I love it here with you?"  


"Well, I'm definitely getting that impression . . ." Miranda gave her a smile, and her eyes showed a little naughty sparkle.  


Jack smiled back, but exhaled a frustrated sigh through her nose. Why was it always so hard to say what she meant? She said more quietly, "Do you think I want to die?"  


Miranda searched her girlfriend's eyes for a moment. Where . . . the hell . . . was that coming from? Jack, at noon on a perfect sunny day, was within a stone's throw of some overwhelming emotion: Grief. Rage. Miranda knew that. But Jack after sex was truly unpredictable. Miranda had learned to mostly roll with it. If these were the moments when Jack felt free to get in touch with the things that troubled her, so be it. It was a true show of trust, and that was more important then a blissed-out cuddle. Not that Miranda would have minded a relaxing cuddle now and again, but these moments were the price for Jack's peace. And so, for hers too. But what had happened tonight to lead to this discussion now?  


Miranda replied in calm seriousness. "No, I don't think that. I do think . . . sometimes you're a little reckless about your safety, but . . ."  


"But, exactly!" Jack wore a look of vindication and seemed energized again. "That doesn't mean I want to die. I want to live. I love you." Another sigh, and her expression darkened, "Who gets to judge what's normal? This is normal for me. I need ... to feel like I'm living. Just because I'm not like other people doesn't mean I want to die . . ."  


"I know. . ." Somewhere in the back of her mind, Miranda started to think that maybe Jack was protesting a little too much. But she decided that the most important thing was to stay in the moment and hear Jack out and offer reassurance. That was always a safe bet. "Jack, you're fine the way you are. What's going on right now?"  


"It's just the fucking chief on my ass . . ."  


"Ahh . . . So, you and he did have . . . an incident. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. It's nothing."  


Miranda couldn't disguise some exasperation. "You're still going with 'nothing'? Okay . . ."  


"Don't okay me . . ."  


Miranda smiled, but she sighed, too. She rested a hand on Jack's upper chest and said, "Don't tell me it's nothing when we're having this conversation at 4:30 in the morning. Right? Be honest with me."  


Jack closed her eyes. "Miranda, I'm being honest. I love you. That's it. I want to be with you, so it would be stupid for anyone to think I want to die" She let out a long sigh now. "I wouldn't do anything that could make me lose you." There was long moment of conflicted silence, but Miranda chose not to fill it.  


"Sometimes I do reckless shit because ..." Jack began. In her head, she thought "...I like it. I like how it makes me feel." But aloud she said, "...because my head's fucked up. You know. I just want everyone to let me be the way I am. I can't help it if a bunch of fucked up people made it so I need to . . . be fighting something . . . all the fucking time . . . It's just . . . that's me now. It's not just who they made me, it's who I want to be." In her head, Jack asked herself, "That's right, isn't it?" But aloud she said, "Just . . . Fuck it. No one gets it." Jack realized Miranda was looking at her with a mixture of confusion, sadness, worry—and, maybe, the tiniest bit of guilt. That was the icing on top of this moment. Jack pushed the palms of her hands against her eyes, then pressed on her temples for a second. Miranda looked like she was about to say something, but couldn't quite figure what angle to take.  


Averting her eyes, Jack breathed out and said, "You know, being with you—like 'being with you'—does a fucking number on my head." Jack let out a sort of sad laugh. "More like, I do a number on my own head. It's just because . . . I'm in love with you. You know I am . . ." She finally stole a look back at Miranda. "But my head is fucked. And I really wasn't ready for this probably. But I'm not going to give it up. Ever."  


"That's a relief."  


Jack barely laughed and said: "Is it? It must be great to be my lover." She sarcastically emphasized the "great."  


"Honestly . . . it usually is."  


"Usually?" Jack poked Miranda very gently in the ribs.  


"I very clearly prefaced that by saying I was going to be honest . . ." Miranda kissed Jack's lips. "Babe, we may never understand each other completely. Or ourselves. But I know you don't want to die, okay? I know. I've seen you fight for your life many times. I know you love me. And your Grissom kids. That you want to help people. You are a product of your past—as we all are. But you're also your own creation. You can keep changing or you can decide this is exactly the right you, right now. Whatever you want. I'll just keep saying it till you believe me." Miranda paused for a moment, then continued.  


"It is great to be your lover. Because you're real with me. Because we're real with each other. And also—honestly—you're pretty good in bed . . ." She finally poked Jack back and added a wink. Somewhere in there, before the pause, she almost said, And I know you want to marry me. But she couldn't make herself say it. The moment already seemed so overwrought. It felt like they had barely kept it back from the edge . . .  


"I also know you are loved by me, exactly as you are. And that it's not always all roses being with me either . . ."  


Jack pulled Miranda into a long, close embrace. "Yeah, it's not all roses with you. You always gotta leave some room for that perfect ass."  


"It's almost as if I need room for two perfect asses, now that I'm with you."  


"You're a lucky woman."  


"I am. Do you feel better now?"  


Jack exhaled. Her back still hurt. Her head still hurt. But her chest felt less tight. Her brain felt less frazzled. "Yeah. I . . ." Jack almost set off on another expedition of self explanation, but she finished with "Yeah, babe . . . thanks."  


"No need to thank me. I love you."  


"Yeah, that's what I'm thanking you for." Jack reached to touch Miranda's face but couldn't stop from wincing.  


"Okay, okay. I think you need to get some sleep." Miranda rolled to her back. "Come on. Come here."  


With the final effort she could exert, Jack moved to change position without grimacing, draping herself half over Miranda as she often did. She let out a satisfied sigh. "I owe you."  


"No. I was paying you back, remember? For 'working me over.' Was that right?"  


"Yeah, yeah. I'm too tired to fight about it right now."  


"Perfect. I accept your surrender."  


Jack mumbled, "That is such a cheap shot, cheerleader." Then, "I love you."  


Miranda kissed Jack's head. "I know. Me too."


End file.
